


Dark Destiny

by lostinmymindforever



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinmymindforever/pseuds/lostinmymindforever





	Dark Destiny

Sam doesn’t remember a time before they were always on the run, but Dean does. Dean tells Sammy stories of before, before their mother died, before their dad dragged them all across the country, forever on the run from... something. Dean tells him of the house they had, back when things were normal, but Sam only knows this life. Sam doesn’t understand why they can’t stay in one place for long, doesn’t understand all the weapons and secrecy and why he isn’t allowed to talk to anyone but Dean or Dad or a handful of others who their father approves of.

And yet, Sam doesn’t complain. This is what his life is, this is normal for him. He watches out the window as they drive, mile after mile, day after day, only stopping to stay in crappy motels and abandoned houses. He’s seen what is supposed to be normal on TV, but it never really sinks in, never really seems real to him.

As the years pass their father begins to teach them, how to kill, how to fight, how not to get caught. Dean says that he thinks Dad was the one who killed Mom, but Sam believes Dad, that it was something, something they have to find and destroy. And why wouldn’t he believe his father, he’s never lied to them, has he?

When Sam turned 12 his father took him out for the first time, and later that night, when he was washing the demon’s blood off his hands his father looked at him with pride, telling him he did good, telling him that he was proud that Sam hadn’t flinched when the time came to slash the woman’s throat. Dean had watched him sadly, storming off outside. 

Sam had followed, not sure why this was so upsetting to Dean. This was their life, the constant hunt to kill the forces of evil and darkness that plagued the world. He found Dean sitting under a tree, one of Dad’s bottles in his hands, staring off into the darkness. Sam had curled up against him, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and they sat there, drinking the bottle until they were both numb, stumbling back into the motel and falling into a drunken sleep.

After that night things changed. The hunts intensified, and by the time Sam was 15 he had killed at least 100 demons. But something was wrong, Sam could feel it deep in his bones, something was changing. And then one day Dad just left, climbed into his new truck, and drove away, leaving Sam and Dean alone.

By the time Dad had been gone for three months Sam and Dean decided to go and try to find him, making their way across the country, searching out any trace of their father. They killed and stole and worked their way from town to town, Dean hustling pool and darts and cards, Sam selling his body to earn money. It was a good life, one without rules, one with no limits, and Sam reveled in it. But there was always this nagging doubt in Dean’s eyes, something Sam wished he could get rid of.

Dean started having nightmares, ones that would cause him to wake screaming, arms bloody from clawing at himself in his sleep, and the only word he would say afterwards was “Mom”. Sam didn’t know what to do, but he found that if he crawled into bed with Dean that the nightmares wouldn’t come, which is how Sam and Dean ended up sharing a bed all the time. 

It wasn’t long after that that their relationship changed, as Sam couldn’t help but get turned on as he lay pressed up against Dean’s body. Dean had fought it, briefly at least, but soon came to want it just as much as Sam did, and the two of them would fuck long into the night before passing out on each other. Things stayed the same for years, they moved from place to place, doing what they had to, always looking for clues to their father’s whereabouts. 

Sam was almost 19 when they found out anything. They’d been passing through a small little town, eating breakfast at a greasy diner when something on the TV caught Sam’s attention. It was a news story about the arrest of a serial killer, and Sam’s blood ran cold when he saw his father’s face on the screen. Sam ran to the bathroom, throwing up his meal, shaking and terrified. If his father was a killer, a murderer, what did that make him, what did that make Dean?

Dean wasn’t far behind him, ushering him to the car, speeding out of town in silence. When they finally pulled over Dean gave him a panicked look. He obviously had come to the same conclusions that Sam had about their lives, about how they were raised. Sam asked him what they were going to do, would they continue, would they give up and try and settle down, would they turn theirselves in?

In the end they decided to lay low for a while, holing up in a rundown cabin in the middle of the woods, hunting animals for food, every so often going into the nearest town for supplies. It was a good life, a simple life, one that suited them, but it couldn’t last for long. When Sam was 22 he had gone out into town to pick up a few necessities, and when he came back to his home he found it engulfed in flames. 

A man was standing outside the flaming ruin, his back towards Sam. When the man finally turned Sam saw it was his father, but all too soon he realized the truth. It wasn’t John Winchester, it never had been, not since that terrible night in 1983. The man that stood before him gave him a cruel smile, his yellow eyes filled with a sinister glee. Sam could see movement out of the corner of his eye and watched in horror as Dean crawled out of the wreckage, hand holding in his internal organs, flesh charred and burned. 

Their father walked towards him, slowly, menacingly, and Sam was frozen in place by fear and dread. 

“Are you ready to embrace your destiny, Sam?” his father asked, that voice so familiar and twisted at the same time. 

Sam shook his head, trying to will himself awake, trying to make the images go away but they wouldn’t, as this wasn’t a dream, it was real. Sam wasn’t sure where the courage came from, but he did the only thing he could. His life was gone, the one thing that had mattered was taken from him, and he knew if he gave in, if he said yes he was even more damned than he already was. So Sam reached under his shirt, pulled out his gun, put it against his head and pulled the trigger.

Azazel cursed as he watched Sam’s body fall to the ground, thinking it a great waste. Sam had been molded into the perfect one, the one who would fulfill all their plans and now he lay dead on the ground. He stormed off, in search of one of his other special children. Sam had been his favorite, but there were always others.


End file.
